skyrimkinkmeme | Meme Announcements!

Meme Announcements!

ANNOUNCEMENTS: UPDATED 12/16/2017

Happy Holidays, fellow Kinkmemers! I have returned and have no reasonable excuse for my absence except LIFE. I will be working on updating the archives. If anyone sees anything amiss, please let me know.

I am also hoping to find another Mod and an Archivist.

The more dedicated people we have in this Meme the less chance of it dying. I admit that being the sole keeper of the Meme is not great for the fandom. If something were to happen to me, for good, this place would go the way of the Fallout Kink Meme. Let's not let that happen! If anyone would be interested in Modding/Archiving, please drop me a line. Thanks! <3

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Not OP, but wow, this is looking like it's going to be great. I love Audric, and your writing is really fantastic. Keep going!

Loving it! I hope we see new updates soon.

I'm not sure if I've missed prompts, or fills, but I've only found one fill related to Morrowind. I would adore to see a fill just set in Morrowind, no Nerevarine preferably. Something sweet please, I would just overflow with joy. I hope this is okay >. <

Bonus
- If the Dunmer male is more dominent.

tags:

race:dunmer race:breton race:nord race:imperial es:morrowind char:f!npc char:m!npc relationship:het

Which ever will be easier for you, my lovely! *starry eyed*

Also kind of hoping for THE ELDER SCROLLS VI: THALMOR BEATDOWN, and also seconding this prompt!

Holy shit I didn't die! :O Sorry about the wait. I just started a new job, and it's kind of melting my brain, so I haven't had much writing time. Here's the first chunk of the story, anyway. I'll try not to keep you waiting too terribly long for the rest.

Tags:

relationship:slash, char:thrynn, char:M!DB, race:nord, kink:rough_sex, kink:oral, kink:fingering, kink:masturbation, kink:voyeurism, series:arend

* * *

"Hey, hey! Wanna talk to you."

The voice was sharp and harsh, and the young, red-haired thief to whom the curt statement was directed was taken aback slightly. Raising one angular eyebrow, he looked over his shoulder. The speaker was a large, muscular Nord in grey Thieves Guild armor. The boy had seen him around the cistern during his short time with the Guild, but had never spoken to him. Thrynn was his name, if he recalled.

"Yes?" he replied pleasantly.

"You're the new kid. Arend, right? The one that hit Goldenglow up the other night?" he said gruffly. His voice was raspy and deep, and had a husky, bedroom quality to it that Arend rather wanted to hear more of.

"Yeah, that's me," nodded Arend in a neutral tone. "You're Thrynn, right?"

He took a moment to look the large Nord over, now that he had the chance, and decided he liked what he saw. Thrynn was everything Arend liked about the Nords of Skyrim; He was tall, broad-chested, and bulging with muscles, if the shapely biceps exposed by his sleeveless armor were anything to go by. It was those arms that caught the boy's eye the most. They were absolutely perfect, and Arend found himself wondering what it would feel like to be hoisted into the air by those perfect limbs and fucked against the wall of the Cistern. Or maybe Arend would just pin the big Nord to the ground and ride him so he could watch those muscles writhe and flex beneath him.

A coy smile worked itself onto Arend's face as he made his decision to make this lovely piece of male flesh his next project. He needed a new challenge, and Thrynn looked like he was more than up to the task. Bedding Brynjolf had been far too easy. It hadn't taken too much convincing to coax the flirtatious fellow redhead between his sheets, and, as good as the sex with the elder thief was, Arend was growing bored. He had briefly considered turning his attentions to the Flagon's attractive bartender, Vekel the Man, but had wisely decided against it after Tonilia had pulled him aside and threatened to skin him alive and feed him to the skeevers infesting the ratway. Yikes. He had also casually tried seducing Delvin Mallory in the hopes that he could get the older Breton to talk dirty to him with that deep, gravelly voice, but had given it up as a lost cause after he had laughed off Arend's attempts and told him he didn't fuck pups. Or blokes. Oh, well. He couldn't win all the time.

"Yeah," grunted Thrynn in response to the question Arend had forgotten he had asked. The boy wondered what Thrynn wanted with him, and also whether the threatening look on his face was for some reason directed at him, or if that was just the man's normal expression. Continuing, the large Nord answered Arend's curiosity with his next statement.

"You're pretty tough. I respect that. Bringing in a lot of coin, making us look good, too. Let me know if you need anything, okay?"

His tone was still harsh, even menacing, but Arend recognized an offer of friendship when he saw one, and he smiled.

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind. So, what kinds of jobs do you do around here?" asked Arend conversationally. Then he looked him over pointedly and winked, "I'm guessing you're no sneak-thief with all those rippling muscles."

If Thrynn caught Arend's outright flirting, he didn't show it. Shrugging, he answered, "I'm the heavy hitter around here. When someone needs pushing around, I'm the one they send in."

Arend resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Honestly, Nords could be so dense! Instead, he leaned casually against the wall of the Cistern and pressed, "I see. I heard you used to be part of a bandit clan. That must have been exciting."

Thrynn frowned. "It was, for awhile, anyway. Turns out I didn't like them and they didn't like me, so we parted ways," he explained.

He proceeded to tell Arend the story of a farming caravan they had raided one spring, and about his chief's orders to kill the women and children after the wagons had been taken. Thrynn had objected, along with certain others loyal to him, and the ensuing fight had tore the clan apart.

"We all went our separate ways after that," he ended. "I wound up here after Brynjolf recruited me for my muscle. What about you?"

"I was just passing through Riften when Brynjolf nabbed me in the marketplace," explained Arend. "I'd done my share of dirty work back in High Rock, but never through a formal guild, so I figured why not? My pockets were a little light, and I'm no good at honest work, anyway."

"Is that where you're from, High Rock?" asked a new voice. Arend and Thrynn turned to see Cynric approaching them with his bow slung over his shoulder. Arend scowled inwardly. So much for his grand plan of seduction. Although, on the other hand, perhaps there was still a way to turn this around. After all, Cynric was a fairly attractive man himself. Maybe he would set the bait for both men and see which of them took it.

"Oh, that's right, you were originally from High Rock, weren't you, Cynric?" said Arend cheerfully. "No, I was born in Cyrodiil, but I was brought to High Rock when I was seventeen, and I lived there all the way until I came here to Skyrim."

"What were you doing there?" asked Cynric curiously.

"I worked the courts under a feudal lord in Daggerfall," replied Arend casually. Cynric's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but Thrynn wasn't following.

"What's that mean?" he asked, looking back and forth between the two.

Arend winked. "It means I was a prostitute, love," he purred shamelessly. "The politics of High Rock are quite… interesting, to say the least. When I was seventeen, a Breton noble came to the brothel where I was living in Cyrodiil and bought my contract. He liked my pretty face and figured he could use it to boost his favor among the court."

"High Rock is a disgusting place," growled Cynric bitterly, and Thrynn looked fairly shocked as well. Arend just shrugged nonchalantly.

"Wasn't that bad. I got all the best food, nice clothes, a place to sleep. Besides, I won't deny I enjoyed it." He chuckled. "I'm a whore through and through. I like fucking, and I like being fucked. If I get paid for it, all the better."

Cynric still looked faintly put out by the knowledge, and Arend figured he wouldn't get very far with the Breton at the present moment. Thrynn, however, was looking Arend over appraisingly. Arend, of course, bit his lip cutely and returned the look. Good, now we're getting somewhere, he thought coyly. Catching the increasingly sexual exchange between the two, Cynric excused himself with a mumbled, "Er, I'll just let you two… whatever."

"You're pretty young for a whore," commented Thrynn after Cynric had walked away. His tone was hesitant and slightly strained, as if he wasn't quite sure how to go about propositioning the young thief, or perhaps just hesitant about the whole thing.

"Oh, I assure you, I was one of the best. Still am, in fact," boasted Arend. "Only difference is I don't charge any more. Usually."

"I-I see." Thrynn shuffled uncomfortably. Arend rolled his eyes. So much for brave, dominant Nords.

"So, you wanna do it?"

Thrynn startled.

"Uh-I, what?"

Arend laughed. "I'm asking if you fancy a fuck. How 'bout it?"

"I, well… yeah, sure," Thrynn stuttered then finally shrugged as he regained his composure and some measure of confidence. "You're kinda cute for a guy. I like that. You got a nice ass, too. Er, I don't have to buy you dinner or nothin', do I?"

"I'm not a skirt," scoffed the red-haired thief with a toss of his head. "I don't want to hold your hand and snuggle by the fire. I just want a good, hard fuck. You up for that, big guy?"

Smirking, Thrynn crossed his arms, and Arend practically drooled at the way his muscles bulged.

"I think I can manage," he grinned, his gaze predatory as he sized the younger Nord up.

"Great. You free in an hour or two?"

My love of Galmar Stone-Fist is directly proportional to my LOATHING of him when we first met (and I really, really loathed him - he just seemed like everything that was wrong with the Stormcloaks). I think it was the speech he gave before the attack on Whiterun. Ulfric gets a lot of kudos for his eloquence, and rightly so, but I find Galmar's dialogue there quite moving, along with some of his surprisingly thoughtful ambient dialogue and the fact that he'll call you a cold bastard if you advise him just to kill Rikke at the Battle of Solitude. He's still a hotheaded and occasionally bloodthirsty extremist, but there's a lot more to him than that.

Can we subject a Dragonborn to slow-growing and utterly unexpected Galmar appreciation? Whether of the romantic, friendship, or you-remind-me-of-my-cranky-old-grandfather variety.

I *may* try and fill. I'm not entirely sure I could do this prompt justice. :p But I'd like to try!

SECONDED!

"You must be a Nightingale 'cos you're Nocturning-me-on!"

Oh yes please. I need this in my life. Unf.

D'AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

Cutest thing on the meme. I loved that he was thoughtful enough to send a courier and then totally overtook him. That just made my day!

You do such a good job of bringing out the childrens' personalities here. Lovely! I hope there's more (much, much more)!

Argh I need this like a burning

This goes nicely with another piece I wrote involving my female Nord DB. I think I can fill this one! Let me work it out, hopefully I can post it this weekend.

Thank you to the kind OP and Anon for encouraging me to continue this! <<<3

Char:Brynjolf kink:hurt/comfort kink:oral

Sneaking past the blind Falmer that inhabited the lower levels was child's play for the three of us. Evading Mercer's traps was easier, though I knew that they were merely attempts to slow us down. Like that'll work, bastard. I'm coming for you. All I could focus on was the image of Mercer bleeding on the end of my sword and I set a brutal pace through the ruins. I could feel Karliah and Brynjolf still exchanging uneasy glances behind my back. I ignored them. All I cared about was Soon we were at the great bronze doors that led into the inner sanctum, where Mercer would be waiting.

Pushing open the doors revealed the bastard himself, dangling from the strangely serene face of the giant snow elf statue, prising at the biggest gemstone I'd ever seen. A second gemstone lay in the lap of the statue. The Eyes of the Falmer.
"Mercer," Karliah murmured, "I don't think he's seen us." I scoffed, of course he had seen us, this was the grand finale of his piece de resistance, every fucking move had been carefully calculated. "Brynjol-"
Whatever Karliah was about to say was cut off as I stepped forward, Shouting "FUS RO DAH."
The Shout caught both him and the Eye, dropping them down into the statue's crossed legs. The flash of satisfaction as he fell was quickly destroyed as he landed unharmed with a catlike roll, that self-satisfied smirk on his face.
"When will you learn that you cannot get the drop on me?"
I was shaking with rage, the sound of his voice transporting me back to that room and him inside me.
"You cannot win, Mercer," Karliah's voice was as level as it had always been. Impressive, considering she wants him dead as much as me.
The bastard shrugged, a small smirk twisting his mouth, "All I wanted was to destroy you. And I certainly managed that, hmm? How did it go again? To ensure an enemy's defeat, you must first undermine his allies", his gaze shifted to me. "Isn't that right little Nightingale?"
The same words Karliah had spoken back in Snow Veil Sanctum a lifetime ago. Karliah and Brynjolf had shifted their attention to me, by now I was certain they knew something had happened between Mercer and I, but all I could see, all I could focus the rising darkness on was Mercer. I pushed back my mask, revealing my impassive, cold face. He was trying to goad me, provoke me into a reaction and I would not give him the satisfaction.
"I'm bored, can we get to the part where I kill you? Slowly."
He ignored me, pacing on the book on the statue's lap, like a bard on a stage, "When Brynjolf brought you before me, I could feel a sudden shift in the wind. And at that moment I knew it would end with one of us on the end of a blade." His voice was strangely intimate and his gaze flickered over my face, "Look at you, still beautiful even when broken, don't you agree Brynjolf?"
My face twisted with revulsion and anger and shame. I didn't want to look at Brynjolf, for him to see my reaction. Dragonsbane had leapt into my hand without thought and I began moving down the stairs, gaze locked on Mercer.
"You will be the one who dies, Mercer."
He smiled then, the bastard, like it was all a game, "Then the die is cast and my blade will once again taste Nightingale blood."

As I reached the bottom of the stairs a crash of stone behind me sent me flying to the ground. Some sort of explosive trap. That's why he kept us talking as long as he did. Then dimly through the settling dust I caught sight of Brynjolf raising his sword to strike Karliah, she barely managing to bring her own up in time to block him. More tricks. Water was leaking through the cracks in the ceiling, suggesting that we would soon be running out of time. I glanced at Mercer, who was watching with a pleased smirk on his face, like the cat that had got the pigeon. I climbed up onto the book, wary for more traps. The dark beast stirring inside me urged me to charge him but what little remained of rational me held it back.

Keep calm. Focus.

We circled each other, gazes locked. Then Mercer vanished, I sent a blast of flames through the area to no avail and the tiniest whisper of air made me bring my sword up in a deflection to my left, catching Mercer's blade as he struck down at my head. I let the momentum spin Dragonsbane in my hand before cutting down, aiming at the carotid artery in his neck but he spun away, vanishing again. My blood was boiling with rage as I scanned the area. He's too quick… A smile lit my face as I realised I had the perfect weapon at my disposal, all I had to do was wait for my prey to come to me. A flicker in the light in front of me- he was behind me. I spun again, lowering my centre and cutting horizontally across his belly, more to forestall him as I Shouted, "TIID KLO UL."

Time slowed revealing Mercer in front of me, frozen. It felt like my limbs were wading through water as I stepped in close and gently pierced his leathers with Dragonsbane. As much as I wanted to drag this out I couldn't. Not with Brynjolf under his influence and fighting Karliah. If they had hurt themselves because of my delay I wouldn't have ever forgiven myself. So I stabbed him in the heart. In a few seconds he would be dead. I backed off, sinking down to my haunches to watch. Time sped up again, colour seeping back into the world and I stared impassively as Mercer staggered, hand clutching the blood pooling out of his chest.

His gaze met mine as he collapsed to the ground. He spoke but I didn't catch the words as a loud rumble reverberated through the cavern and more of the weakened ceiling fell in, torrents of water following. Probably one final taunt. Then his eyes dulled and he convulsed, blood frothing out of the wound, before he finally stilled. Mercer was dead and it seemed vaguely anti-climatic. Unfinished. The desire for vengeance had died and I was left feeling hollow. Numbly I realised Karliah and Bryn had swum over to me, Karliah stalking over to Mercer's corpse to retrieve the Key, whilst Brynjolf shoved both Eyes into his pack. Not that it mattered. We were trapped. Karliah and Brynjolf began futilely looking for a way out. As the freezing water rose I just floated there staring at Mercer's corpse, bobbing in the weak light. Light. My tired brain finally clicked and I swam over to his body, staring at the jumble of rocks that made up the ceiling. There was a faint patch of lighter rocks, as though weak daylight was trying to get through. It was a chance. Besides the worst that can happen is that I kill us that much quicker.
"Karliah. Brynjolf. Come here." My voice echoed weirdly in the flooded chamber and the air felt strangely heavy and compressed. They swam their way over to me and I grabbed them both before I Shouted, "FUS RO DAH."

My Thu'um hit perfectly, widening the gap. But not enough. The water had risen to our shoulders now and Mercer's corpse was gently bumping against my back. It was an agonising struggle for me to regain my focus, fear and panic, keeping the discipline at bay. Deep breaths. Focus.
"FUS RO DAH."
This time the passage widened, daylight spilling into the tiny space we had left. I pushed Karliah through first and once she had scrambled up I pushed at Brynjolf.
"You go first, lass."
I shook my head, but he insistently pushed me at the hole, "Go, lass."
I glared but obeyed, not wanting to waste time with petty arguments, making sure he was following before pressing on.

Worming our way up through the narrow passage was painful and nerve-wracking though the glimpse of daylight kept me climbing on. We emerged in a shallow cave by a serene looking lake which was, presumably, the one that had just tried to kill us. I sank down onto a rock by the entrance closing my eyes and catching my breath. Brynjolf eased himself down next to me with a tentative smile and I smiled back, though it felt slightly forced. I just wanted to go home.

It was a miserable journey back to Riften. Our armour was still soaking wet and it was cold this far north. I also refused to let Karliah and Brynjolf rest and refused to enter their attempts at conversations. The rocking motion of Shadowmere hurt, as did the remaining bruises and scrapes from the fight. The adrenaline had faded and I was exhausted physically and mentally, barely able to hold myself in the saddle. Thinking hurt too much so I just drifted along on Shadowmere's back, trying to block out the pain.
After a eternity the stone walls of Riften were in sight.

We left our horses at the stable, Shadowmere snorting contemptuously at Shadr as the poor Redguard reluctantly went to lead him for a rub-down. I paid Hofgrir 20 silvers for someone to unload my saddle-bags and take them to Honeyside whilst I headed to the Cistern with Brynjolf and Karliah.

As soon as we had entered the other members gathered, wanting a blow by blow account of our victory. Being surrounded by the press of bodies overwhelmed me and I froze. The cheers and celebrations of the others turned into the mocking laugh of the bandits and my vision turned friends into featureless blurs who shifted into faces that would haunt my nightmares for a long time to come. I couldn't breathe and I felt dizzy and nauseous. The room swam and I felt my knees give way.

I woke up terrified, though instinct kept me still and my eyes shut until I could figure. I could hear Brynjolf's voice right beside me and the soft purr of Karliah's voice barely audible nearby.
"It can wait a few days."
"It can't. The Evergloam…"
"Look at her, she's exhausted. We're exhausted. It can wait, Karliah."
"As soon as she's up she'll have to-"
"Are you completely stupid, Karliah? Something happened with her and Mercer and she is not right-"
There was silence for a moment, then Karliah spoke, "Fine." Soft footsteps and a heavy sigh from Bryn indicated that Karliah had left. I kept my eyes shut. I was trying to avoid Brynjolf and the inevitable conversation.
To my surprise I felt a hand sweep over my face, brushing my hair back, "Ah lass, what in Oblivion happened to you?"
My breathing hitched and my heart began to race. I was about to open my eyes when I heard someone clear their throat. Brynjolf's hand froze on my face for a second before pulling away.
"Uh, boss?" Delvin. "We need to go over the latest figures."
"Right, Delvin." Another rustle of leather and after a minute I cautiously opened my eyes. I was alone.
I lay on my narrow cot, though my thoughts drifted to Karliah and Brynjolf's earlier bickering. I didn't care about the stupid Key. Or Nocturnal. All I could think about was how scared I was, still trapped in Irkngthand, doomed to relive the memories over and over. The guilt and the shame was becoming too much to bear and I couldn't see a way past it.

What I needed right now was someone who I knew wouldn't judge me. Wouldn't pity me and who wouldn't ask questions. Someone who understood. I could think of only one person.

Karliah had vanished and Brynjolf was busy rifling through the Guild books with Delvin and Vex, already planning the next steps for the Guild. He hadn't seen me. Most of the others were fast asleep so I slipped over to the ladder leading to the exit and the figure tucked into one of the cots nearby. I gently shook the bundle until it rolled over, mumbling.
"Sapphire?" I murmured, "Can I talk to you? In private?"
She sat up scowling, though it faded at my expression, nodding before sitting up and pulling on her boots and jacket. I lead her out the Cistern and onto the Ratway docks. The cool dawn air felt refreshing after the warmth of the Cistern and I could hear the birds beginning their morning chorus in the wilderness outside. It almost felt peaceful. For Riften anyways. Sapphire still hadn't spoken, waiting for me to speak first. I felt strangely nervous, as if I had done something wrong….
I swallowed nervously, rubbing my hands on my leather-covered legs, "So, umm, I don't know how to ...I…I was raped. At Irkngthand. By Mercer Frey and his cronies. I was stupid and I screwed up and they caught me." I pressed my lips together, unable to say more.
"Fuck," Sapphire was staring at me, jaw locked tight as though she was fighting unwanted memories of her own. I gave a bitter snort of agreement, face locked in a grimace, turning to sit with my feet dangling over the dock, just skimming the filthy water of the canal. After a minute I felt Sapphire sit beside me.
"Any chance you could be pregnant?"
My eyes flew to hers. I hadn't…Shit...Please Divines, don't let me be…
"I don't know." The thought filled me with terror.
"OK, wait here a minute." Sapphire stood and strode off rapidly round the edge of the walkway, leaving me frantically counting dates. Sapphire was back shortly, carrying a small sack filled with clinking potion bottles. She knelt next to me, placing the first bottle in between us, "Drink all of this now." Fear made me comply, downing the foul tasting liquid in one. "You take one of these each morning for a week. Then if your moon blood hasn't come take this one for a week." She held each potion up, making sure I understood. I nodded, dull relief soothing the panic, "Thank you Sapphire." She held my gaze, "Sometimes the potions don't work. It's rare but I have heard of it. If your blood doesn't come for three months tell me. There's an apothecary in the woods near here that's been known to help women who are in trouble."
I dragged my gaze over to a rat nesting on a island of floating rubbish, nodding dully.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No. Yes." I gave a self-deprecating scoff, "I don't know."
She sighed, pulling her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, "I told you about me, right? The bandits that took me…"
Her voice was quiet, pained and I felt slightly guilty for making her relive it. I had had one horrible brutal experience, she had had two weeks of it. I nodded.
"I never told you the worst part. The worst part was that they made me enjoy it. It made me feel so dirty and I hated myself for some time after. I still do in some ways. Don't be like that." I didn't respond, still staring off into the distance. She stood up, sighing softly, "When you're ready to talk come find me." She paused as she turned to leave, "Did you kill them all at least?" I turned my head to look at her, nodding, a cold, satisfied smile twisting my lips. "Good." Then she was gone slipping back into darkness of the tunnel leading to the Cistern.

Numbly I made my way to Honeyside, Sapphire's words echoing round my head and the sack of potions weighing heavily on my arm and my mind. Iona was there, grumbling slightly when I asked her to stay at the Bee and Barb for the next few days. But she left, shutting the door behind her, leaving me alone. Hofgrir had dumped my saddlebags just inside the front door and I lugged them down to my alchemy lab, flinching at the clang of metal as I dragged them down the stairs.

Next order of business was a bath. I dragged the metal hip bath from its hook in the cellar and set it up on the flagstones. I methodically filled the tub with water from the pump, though my hands shook and I spilled as much onto the floor as I got in the tub. A quick spell heated the water until it was steaming. I wanted it hot enough to scour away the memories. I undressed, hanging my armour on the mannequins. As I did I caught a glimpse of myself in the burnished mirror, I looked like a ghost.The potions I had taken had healed the worst of the damage but it hadn't been enough. Faded but visible bruises encircled my wrists and ankles, scattered my breasts, neck and hips, bite marks and finger marks still asserting the bastards claim. My eyes were dead and I stared impassively at the stranger looking back at me for a long moment. Moving back to the bath I sank into the water, my skin screaming at the harshness of the heat, closing my eyes as the memories began their assault. All I could do was relive it, moment by moment, more vivid each time. Desperate to escape I grabbed the soap and began frantically scrubbing my skin and my hair, trying to erase their touch. It wasn't enough. Choking on a sob, I curled up into a foetal ball, face resting on my raised knees, and I wept.

I wasn't sure how long I stayed in the tub crying but it was long enough that the water had cooled. Strangely enough I felt slightly better for the release, slightly stronger. I stood up in the tub, wrapping myself in one of the soft towels. Then I heard a soft voice, echoing from round the corner, "Lass?"

How long had he been there?

"Go away, Brynjolf." My voice was hoarse from all the crying and sounded weak.
"I'm not leaving until you talk to me, lass." He sounded angry. "Sapphire sent me. She said-"
His choice of words sent a welcome flash of anger through me, and clutching the towel around me I stomped into the room, out of my mind with rage.

Brynjolf was stood waiting for me, clad in his familiar dark leathers. His gaze dropped to my bruise covered body and his face paled as I glared at him.
"What did she say, Brynjolf?"
Brynjolf was silent, still staring at me. Then I glanced at the workbench behind him, a small leather journal out in plain sight. The mage's journal. The one that detailed his experiments. The one whose last, blood-stained entry detailed my ordeal. Every act they'd put me through, every orgasm I'd had, how long I’d lasted and how many times I'd blacked out was written in terse, clinical writing. I'd only skimmed it after I'd killed the mage and the realisation that my torture hadn't ended during the times I had passed out had had me slamming the wretched thing in horror. I'd meant to burn it along with the other items I'd taken after my bath.
My eyes widened in horror, "Did you read it?"
He dropped his gaze and I had my answer.
"So, I guess you know."
He was silent, though his eyes met mine.
"What? No smooth words to make it better?" I was trembling and I felt like I might cry again. Better to stay angry. "Or have you come to tell me off? That I should have listened to you? That you were fucking right as always?!"
Still no response.
"Or do I repulse you now? Hmm? Do you despise me now you know the truth?"
Nothing.
"Say something, you bastard!" I shrieked, snatching the closet thing to hand and hurling it at him. The potion bottle missed him easily to explode on the wall behind him and a sob burst out from me, hot tears of shame and embarrassment prickling my eyes so I closed them, desperate to stop them from falling. I opened my eyes as a rustle of movement brought Brynjolf to stand at arms length. Glacially slowly his hand came up to brush my hair, I froze, muscles tensing, jaw clenched as I barely suppressed the urge to Shout him into Oblivion. Brynjolf noticed my tension and I caught a flicker of sadness pass through his eyes. As his hand touched my face I whimpered, shutting my eyes tight. "Oh, my lass, I could never hate you." His other hand gently touched my arm, guiding me gently into his chest.

He just held me, for a long while, until I gradually relaxed, stroking my hair and whispering soothing meaningless words. Face pressed into his leathers, I closed my eyes, listening to his heartbeat. For the first time since Irkngthand I felt safe.
"Brynjolf?"
He tilted his head down to me, pressing his lips to the top of my head, "Yes?"
My fingers tightened on his leathers, "Stay. Please? Don't leave me."

Basically, anon wants Brynyolf, the smooth talking womanizer thrown for a loop when he falls in love the with the new recruit, who's a redhead, sarcastic, and a mage. Bryonyolf was always all for the ladies and never thought he'd be in this situation as he's never fallen for a man before. Cue awkward silences, conversation, and slips of the tongue. (wicked grin) Also include funny situations and the rest of the Thieves Guild making bets on how long Brynyolf can keep making a fool of himself or until Vex gets tired of the running around and spills the beans.

Sex isn't necessary, but if writernon puts it in, OP won't be complaining lol.

I'm going off my of my own DB model. Here are his specifics. You don't have to use him, but OP would be FRIGGIN HAPPY if you did.

Breton
Name: Reno
Eye color: one eye is green, the other is yellow.
Mage Thief
Sarcastic, but warm and bubbly. Generally an all around nice guy with a penchant for pissing off Mercer on purpose. XD

Kinks: breathplay, thrown against a wall and ravished (HAHA)
Non-kinks: no bloodplay please. I prefer to write my own. Also keep the bathroom stuff where it belongs please.

I'm surprised that I have yet to read a Miraak prompt on here. Let's fix that shall we?

Anyway, you know when you first meet Miraak your on your knees because of his magic? Let's take that a step further shall we? Anon wants to see Miraak taking full advantage of the helpless Dragonborn at his feet. Hell, let's not stop there. Hermaeus Mora joins the fun because hey, Daedric Prince with a paralyzed human to toy with? He may be the Prince of Intelligence but he's not stupid. He knows a good and rare opportunity when he sees one.

(blowjob, tentacle sex PLZ OMG) Anon wants to see the DB against it at first but hey magic is useful for other things than just setting people on fire ya know. Dubcon which quickly manifests into OMGPLZYESNOWWANTNEED.

Make my DB SCREAM writeranon. Make him scream until he can't anymore. Bloodplay, screaming, magic abuse (mndfuck) is all allowed.

Bathroom kinks not so much. So please don't include those.

OP! Is sobbing.
the hurt/comfort thing with Bryn.. it made my whole prompt complete... YOU, ANON, are my soul mate in fanfiction. I... I'm in love with your words...
I'm so in luuuuv with Bryn that its almost pathetic, and the fact that you're doing this...
Ohhhh all of my hearts.

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